The Pursuit of Happiness
by ArabellaNitehart
Summary: Alfred loved going to the field with Arthur. Arthur promised to never take anyone else there besides Alfred. But as centuries pass Alfred overhears Arthur talking to Francis about going to their field..His and Arthur's field.. USUK ONESHOT


This is for SakuraChiyo! One of the proud winners for a oneshot! I'm sorry it took so long, but it is up now! :D I hope you like it my dear~!

Enjoy~!

Disclaimer/ I do not own Hetalia. It is owned by its creator Himaruya Hidekaz.

* * *

><p><strong>The Pursuit of Happiness <strong>

"_Alfred let's go home now. It's getting late."_

"_Aw already..? Can't we stay here just a little bit longer Arthur..?"_

"_Heh. I wish we could, but the sky is becoming darker. Night will soon be upon us lad. And you know what happens during the night."_

_Young America remained lying down on the grass even as England stood up. He began trembling from the thought of seeing ghosts during the night, but was intent on staying in the field lavished with evergreen grass and a plenty of colorful flowers of all kinds. The floral was not exactly coordinated or organized in any way—it was scattered, painting the grass with an abundance of shades._

_A beautiful mess—which wasn't really a mess at all if you look at it from a different position. It was just beautiful in all its splendor, in its own little way._

_The field was beautiful. It was special—unique. Different._

_It was Arthur and Alfred's field. Only theirs and theirs alone._

_The field was in a secluded location not a ways off from England's home—it was made just for the two of them. No one else but them. Arthur made sure of that._

_The duo would come to play at the field every so often, but not much. Little America loved the field because it was where He and Arthur spent the most time together, even if that time was limited and not frequent as he would wish for them to be, but Alfred treasured each one and savored those dear moments he has with Arthur._

"_I-I'm not scared of being out here at night..!" Alfred began to tremble, but tried to suppress showing it so the other wouldn't see how scared and uncomfortable he actually is being outside in the dark. _

_Apparently England noticed because he chuckled and shook his head, "It seems like you're not so excited to stay here at night. Come on now—up you go..!" He gently grabbed the small child from underneath the boy's arms and playfully lifted Alfred up off the ground—spinning around with the young country in his arms, both laughing and happy as ever._

_The elder stopped spinning—the both of them becoming dizzy—and held on to Alfred tighter giving the child a loving hug, chuckling slightly._

_Alfred wrapped his tiny arms around Arthur's neck and hugged his caretaker back whilst giggling. "That was fun England!" He giggled some more then moved back slightly to look at the elder face to face, "Let's stay here—please..?" Alfred begged, his sapphire eyes glistening in the setting sun making Arthur's stomach twist from the guilt of the answer he had to say to the innocent child that was his darling America._

_Arthur smiled softly at the small nation with sadness hinting at the corners of his eyes and hugged Alfred again. "I'm sorry Al… It's late and you could get sick from being outside in these hours. It becomes very chilly during the night."_

_England could tell that America was disappointed even though he could not see the child's facial expression, but he could tell from the young country's whole body slightly drooping in his arms and the silence that followed._

_Arthur frowned—he hated having his little Alfred so sad and upset, it made him sad. The elder broke the hug and looked at the pouting American with a cheerful smile on his face. "Tell you what— we'll return here tomorrow, the next day, and the next day, and all the days after that! As many times as you would want! But—" England paused for a moment and tickled the child nation in the belly making the other squirm and giggle—turning that sad face into a happy one, "We have to go home when the sun sets—today is no exception! Alright?" Arthur smiled softly at the now happy and giggly young American._

_Alfred smiled back and attacked the English colony with another hug, "Okay! But you have to promise that this is only for the both of us! No one gets to come here but you and me!"_

_Arthur nodded chuckling, tightening his hold on the small country. "I promise Alfred. We will come here—just the two of us. This is our field. It always has and it always will." He smiled warmly and set Alfred down gently on the ground for the young boy to stand._

_The Englishman went down on one knee to be at the same height as the young child. He smiled warmly again, but this time for America to see and dug his hand into his pocket about to take something out, "And for you to always remember that promise—" He pulled out a golden necklace with a heart pendant bordered with sparkling emeralds and a gleaming sapphire in the middle. "This will help you remember that a promise is a promise—meant to be kept. And I will never break any promise to you."_

_Arthur wrapped the jewelry around and locked it from the back of America's neck._

_America held onto the pendant in both his tiny hands and eyed the shining jewels with wide eyed child fascination. "It's so shiny and pretty!" He looked back up at England and smiled happily. "Thank you Arthur! You'd better not break your promise!"_

_The Brit chuckled and ruffled the small nation's hair, "I wouldn't dream of it. That was the intention of the field—I had it made just for the two of us to play together. And that necklace was supposed to be a surprise for later, but now is a better time than ever."_

_Arthur gradually inched away to break the hug and held his hand out to the young Alfred. He smiled lovingly at the small American. "Let's go home."_

_Alfred smiled back and reached his small hand out to hold on to England's that was extended out to him, "Okay! Time to go home!"_

_The two began walking back to England's home with their hands locked together as the sun was shining its last light for the day._

_Young America looked up to the elder as the two walked with hands together, "Arthur? Can you promise me one more thing..?" Alfred asked with hope in his eyes, he used his free hand to grasp onto the pendant on his necklace._

_Arthur looked down at the child curiously then smiled warmly, "Certainly. What would that be?"_

_Alfred smiled back then looked forward to see whatever was ahead of them. He could here slight rustling of trees and the soft howling of wind blowing through around them. America tightened his hold on England's hand and smiled back up at the Englishman._

"_That you will always be my Arthur."_

_The Englishman smiled warmly down at the child, "Of course—" _

"_I never want to be anyone else's."_

:::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: ::::

:::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: :::: ::::

"America—you have papers to fill out. Stop being a lazy ass and do some work for _once_!"

England stood in front of America with some documents in his hands. He plopped down the papers in front of America who sat at his desk in his office room of his house.

The American himself, had his head buried in his arms on top the surface of the table—he was sleeping.

On top the desk were several sheets of white paper and scattered writing utensils like colored pencils, pencils, pens, and crayons whilst on the other side of things—better yet the things on the ground—were documents, international, financial, and economic papers everywhere, clearly being pushed off the desk by a certain sleeping country.

Arthur frowned, furrowing his eyebrows inward. He slammed both his hands on the desk causing the objects on the surface to jump up slightly along with America's head—shooting up from his arms immediately after the impact, startling Alfred awake from his siesta. He began breathing quickly and his eyes were wide open in shock and his glasses askew on his face.

"Holy...! Geez England you frickin scared the hell outta me!" America sighed in relief and took a few seconds to breathe normally then fixed his glasses. He took notice at the new papers in front of him and looked up to Arthur pouting. "Aw do I have to..?"

England sighed, taking a hand to rub his temple with his fingers before setting it back to its original spot on top America's desk, "Yes—you do. Along with the ones I put on your desk, the papers on the ground need to be completed as well. Your government and relationships with other countries will crash down right before your eyes so you'd better get started on some work."

The elder sighed again and took back his hands from the desk's surface to stand up straight. He turned around to face the office room door and walked towards it—taking a hold of the knob and turning it to open the door.

Arthur was about to walk out of the room until the now grown country behind him started to talk out of panic of seeing England leave so suddenly, "Ah hey! That's all you came here for all the way from your place? And you're leaving—already?" America asked sounding quite demanding.

He was confused and for some reason irritated at England coming all the way from the UK to the US just to pile America with more work that was already in huge amounts. Was that all England wanted to do? Give him more boring documents then just up and leave? He didn't want the other to leave so quickly and as much as he didn't want to do any work—Alfred would be willing to do it as long as Arthur was there with him.

England paused before saying anything. He continued to hold onto the knob and sighed, not turning around to face the American as he started to speak, "Yes. That's exactly what I'm doing."

He began to move to walk out of the room until America stopped him yet again. "Ah h-hey wait..!"

England stopped again, still not turning around to look at America, "What is it now?"

"Can you help me with my work..?" Alfred asked meekly, scratching the back of his head. He turned his gaze at England's back seeing that the elder had sighed again.

England ran a hand through his hair in frustration and began mumbling softly to himself before responding, "I can't. As much as I would love to spend my day helping you with your overloading amounts of paperwork—there's some business I must attend to across the pond." He replied somewhat sarcastically, but with truth in it—he really did have something going on back home and he would love to help America out with his work, but he wouldn't tell Alfred _that _straight up; he was busy anyway, no time to help.

The American didn't need him to help with paperwork anyhow. America didn't need Arthur at all actually. England knew that and it hurt him knowing that he wasn't needed or wanted. The Revolutionary War was all the proof he required—but nonetheless, he needed to stiff upper lip, he needed to damn well belt up..!

No matter how much it pains him to do so just by the lingering thoughts and memories in his mind that would try it's hardest to prevent him from doing so.

Sure Alfred had asked for him to stay and it would seem that the American wanted his company, but that for sure wasn't the case. America probably just wants the elder to either do all the work by asking stupid questions, putting up an act of being oblivious that way England would have to do the work to show the faking American how it's done or using Arthur as an excuse to not do work at all— making England the distraction.

Yes—obviously _that _was it. Nothing more. _That prat…_

Alfred pouted, slumping his body in disappointment—unknowing of Arthur's thinking. "Oh… Alright… You have stuff, I understand... Gotta do what you gotta do." He said sadly with his voice soft. America began twiddling his thumbs and sat back in his chair just watching his hands—unsure what to do.

Without saying a word further, England walked out of the room and closed the door—or so he thought.

Arthur hadn't noticed that the door didn't close all the way and it slid open a crack, making the gloomy nation look up to see that England had gone and the door still opened slightly.

Minutes pass and Alfred could here footsteps in the distance indicating that Arthur was still in his home—but was about to walk out his front door and go straight back home.

And the rest just happened so quickly and so swiftly—Alfred didn't know what he was doing or why he was doing it, but by the time the American realized what he was doing he was already outside his office room and racing down the halls to catch England before he left.

America stopped in his tracks instantly when he turned a corner to go down the staircase that lied past the corner when he heard Arthur's voice sounding quite cold. Alfred had thought he was talking to him and his heart sank, but rose back up when he realized that he wasn't spotted yet—so it wasn't him that he was talking to.

He tiptoed to the staircase and peeked at the corner wall to see England near the front door with his cell phone to his ear.

"Yes same place… I'll meet you over ther— Francis I told you already! It's the one place near my house! Ye… Yes the one with the spacious land… No—No! Not- not that… No stop talking and just listen!"

Alfred peeked his head out a little farther to take a full look of England. He cocked an eyebrow up—curious of what England was talking about to France. _Where are they going together? Hmm… A place near Arthur's house that's spacious…_

England continued to yell at France—some audible, some muffled when he would suddenly soften his voice, trying to prevent anyone around from hearing.

"France..! It's the place I used to take America when he was younger! Okay? I'll meet you there."

America could hear France's voice through the phone as he leaned his back against the wall and slid down slowly until he fell on his bottom—being now completely unseen by England so the elder wouldn't see him unless he stood in front of the stairwell.

The sullen American stood a knee up, resting his forehead on the cap as he continued to listen in total dismay.

"Y-…Yes I know! I'll see you there in a week! Yea-… Yeah… Don't worry I'll travel safely... Yes I know... Alright thanks... Bye." England hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He turned around to see if anyone was around. He didn't see or hear anyone so he assumed that America was still in his office—unaware of the American being at the top of staircase and had heard the conversation between him and the French.

The Englishman sighed—he had hoped to see America before he left, or at least a 'good-bye'. They didn't say bye to each other yet.

He turned back to the front door, grabbing onto the door knob and turning it to open the door. The Brit stood at the door way about to walk out. England paused before he did so and turned back around—thinking that there would be a chance of Alfred being there to send on his way with a bright farewell; he had hoped that that was going to happen at last minute, but he was out of luck.

England sighed and faced forward. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him—walking to his car he kept in the US when he visited to drive to the airport where he'll be going back to his country.

America heard the shutting of the door and slowly looked up to stare blankly at the wall on the opposite side of where he was leaning. He began feeling a pang of hurt that started eating at the sides of his heart after hearing England's conversation over the phone.

A spacious place.

It was near Arthur's house.

…_It was where Arthur used to take me when I was a kid..._

_And it's where he will go with Francis…_

He buried his face in his hands, feeling the twinge in his chest tighten almost unbearably. Alfred fought hard to choke back a sob, but failed miserably as soon as that single tear found its way out and slowly trailed down his cheek.

That one tear drop was all it took to make the country break down. Tears began to fall freely as he brought his hands away from his face to look up at the ceiling. His voice hitched, turning his head to the stairs.

He quickly, but reluctantly got up and ran down the stairs to the window next to the front door while he continued crying.

Alfred made it just in time to look out and see England get into the driver side and start the car. The devastated American placed a hand onto the window pane as he watched—whilst crying—Arthur drive off out of sight from Alfred's tear streaming face.

America choked on a sob. He shut his eyes tightly still crying, bowing his head and forming his hand that was placed on the window into a fist. "That's _our _field… You promised that that was only _OUR _field..!" He choked again and took his free hand to reach down in the inside of his shirt to take out and clutch on to the sapphire-emerald heart pendant on his necklace that hid behind his shirt.

Alfred choked once more and tightened his grip on both hands along with the tightening hurt in his chest that began to heighten in pain. "You promised that only _we_ will go to that field…You said that that's what it was for… For you and me… My Arthur… You promised that you'll always be my Arthur…"

America shot his head up to look through the window at the spot where England was last—tightening his clutch even more on the heart jewel. He gnashed his teeth and growled to the vision of where England was just before he drove off.

"You promised Arthur!"

* * *

><p>America didn't do any paperwork and now that it was the day after England's visit, he was in a really sour mood and of course would not be doing any type of work whatsoever.<p>

He had woken up really angry and wanted to go back to sleep in his plush bed, but just trying to fall back into dreamland made him even more angry—so getting up was the other option that didn't help his mood lighten up at all.

Breakfast was out of the question also—quite surprising. He did eat, but even eating made him mad. When he would look at all the different foods in the fridge or in his pantry he would scowl at the sight of everything he saw: tea, English muffins, his gallon of milk, leftover fries, sushi, and even the table salt—just because they all somehow reminded him of Arthur, no matter how ridiculous the comparisons he thought of were.

At one point Alfred got so fed up with everything he actually began yelling at an apple he had grabbed from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter—thinking that that apple reminded him of England also:

"_Remember Alfred—an apple a day keeps the doctor away..!"_

America scowled at the words about an apple Arthur had said to him when he was younger. He threw the fruit angrily out of the kitchen to _whoknowswhere _, smiling after he had heard the 'thump!' of the fruit making contact with something else.

Seriously—what did the apple ever do to him? If anything, the apple helped him stay out of the doctor's office. Pity the apple.

Alfred's smile didn't last and he was back again in a bad mood. He slumped around in his house—seeming like a dark gloomy storm cloud was over him if one would first look at the upset nation—not really in the mood to do anything, but to sulk and curse everything he had to do with Arthur. He didn't mean it of course—cursing out England—but he was mad. Not to mention upset, sad, depressed even, numb inside, cold-hearted feeling, angry—no furious, and just all around feeling crappy and totally pissed off.

Still...The apple didn't do anything wrong.

All day America sulked in his house—not answering his house or cell phone when it would ring, not answering the door when it would ring indicating there was company, and not getting any sun overall; making his whole house shrouded in darkness on the inside.

Completely shut off from the outside—a shut in.

He was too depressed, too angry to do anything besides keeping to himself and looking at old pictures of him and Arthur back then whilst he cried ever time he turned a page in each photo album.

He did that while sitting on his couch with a tub of ice cream next to him—for it only to melt after hours of not being touched and looking through albums. Alfred was too upset to eat.

Though he should have just left it in the freezer instead of leaving it out to melt and die—he probably wanted some company.

* * *

><p>A couple of days pass and England hasn't heard any word from America—it struck the Englishman as odd.<p>

Not only did Arthur not hear anything from the American in a long while, he also hasn't seen any change in Alfred's government or country overall.

Arthur sighed while leaning back in his chair; being in his office in his home back at the United Kingdom—Alfred hasn't done any of his work or the ones the Englishman had brought him day's ago.

"That idiot..! What will he accomplish from being a sloth?" He pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation, furrowing his eyebrows inward. "After all the time I sacrificed to visit him and to make sure he won't get lost in the dust that is our world today! I could let him fall apart for all I care!"

England sighed again, letting his head fall back to rest on the head of his office chair to look up at the ceiling. He chuckled despite of himself, running a hand through his hair, "I say that… But I won't. I can't just stand and watch Alfred crumble down."

Chuckling again, England brought his head back up along with his body to rest his elbows on the desk—locking his hands together, closing his eyes, and bringing his forehead to lean onto his hands.

"But he won't… I'm just being too much of a worrier. He doesn't need me…" England opened his eyes, staring blankly down at his paperwork in front of him on his desk, "He doesn't want me."

Arthur soon composed himself and began on his work once again—working diligently to finish everything that was needed to be finished today before sundown.

The paperwork was dreadfully boring—but it needed to be done. No time for slacking.

But even England can take so much of work in one day.

Arthur suddenly dropped his pen—thus dropping everything he was doing. He wasn't finished with his work, but he thought that that was enough boring paperwork for one day. He's done well so far—he deserved a break.

…But who could relax and treat themselves for a job well done if they knew that a certain hamburger inhaler would have mountains of work and is most likely to not be doing them?

Not Arthur—his conscience will bug the hell out of him during his relaxing time of sipping on hot peppermint tea until he did something.

The Brit shoved his hand into his pocket—pulling out his cell phone. He began dialing Alfred's number and pressed the call button afterwards.

He brought the phone up to his ear and listened to the ringing as he waited for America to pick up.

* * *

><p>Hiding underneath the blankets on his bed, Alfred lied hugging his knees to his chest—mumbling nonsense words of woe. He jumped to the sound of his cell phone ringing on the bedside table.<p>

Alfred groaned and continued to stay beneath the covers—trying to ignore the ringing and waiting until it passed.

The phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing—then it finally stopped. The American sighed in relief and kept on with his mumbles and crying sniffles in his little pity party.

America almost yelped right off the bed when he heard his phone ringing again. He growled at the sound—wishing for whoever was calling to just give up.

Again he waited—waited until the sound stopped from underneath his bed sheets.

And again—the ringing stopped, making the American sigh in relief once more.

It must have been a really bad day—more than usual—for Alfred because his cell started to ring yet again. His phone probably hated him for neglecting it when it had rung the first time. So now the phone was taking its revenge by going off seconds after the last ring—just for the hell of it.

Yeah right. That wasn't it because a phone cannot _think _whatsoever let alone plotting a petty revenge of neglect on America.

But today must have really been a worse day than usual because that phone still kept ringing no matter how many times he just waited it out—it just rang again after a short moment.

Alfred groaned and could feel hot tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes—he didn't want to talk to anyone, he really didn't.

After hearing England talk to France about them going to _their_ field—Alfred and Arthur's—and, he stresses, England and France going _together_ to _their _field—again Alfred and Arthur's field.

_How could he do this to me..? _Thought Alfred. He trembled from the upset feelings that swirled up and down his body whilst the ringing blared on.

Alfred continued to keep to himself in his sad mind—unknowing that his phone has yet to stop ringing.

It just kept ringing and ringing and ringing and then it stopped…But then started to ring again and again and again and you know what else it did..? It continued to ring again and again and AGAIN. Then it stopped. And it rang again for laughs.

It repeated to do so like a song permanently hit on repeat and can only change or stop if _someone _would take two seconds to get up to it to stop it or turn off the 'repeat one'.

Or at least shutting down the whole damn thing.

America finally snapped back into reality and threw off the covers over him—getting up to grab his phone on the bedside table to look to see who was calling for the past ten minutes.

He growled darkly at the caller ID, grasping his hold on his phone tighter. _England..!_

The now furious country had the right mind to chuck his phone across his bedroom, but at the same time to give England a piece of his damn mind. He reluctantly chose the latter—pressing the answer button on the touch screen of his Iphone.

"What the hell do _you _want Arthur?" He snapped quite coldly.

Back in Great Britain, Arthur jumped in his seat—shocked to hear Alfred suddenly speak to him like that in that manner. He frowned upsettingly.

"Lovely..! You sound well..!" England said sarcastically rolling his eyes. "How rude..! Do you answer all your calls like that you git?" He hollered back through his phone.

At America's house, Alfred scowled, "No—I just answer all my calls like someone who's not fucking pissed off!" He sarcastically remarked back.

"Well well..! What crawled up your trousers and bit your ass?"

"Nothing! It's nothing!"

"I don't think it's_ nothing _from the way you're behaving!'

"Oh! Well aren't you a smart one? You deserve a prize! Why don't you take Francis with you to that café you took me to the other week along with the other places you took me!"

"What the hell are you talking about? What does that have to bloody do with anything?"

"Nothing! Just fucking drop it!"

"No I won't _just fucking drop it_ you idiot! Alfred what's going on with you?"

"I told you NOTHING! I'm not upset that you left my house so fast the other day! I'm not upset that YOU AND FRANCE are going places… TOGETHER! I am NOT fucking pissed that you broke your damn promises to me! .NOT! I'.!"

England widened his eyes, being shocked at the sudden outburst which was really a confession Arthur realized, but didn't know exactly _what_ the fumed American was confessing about…

…Until it hit him.

"A-Alfr—"

"No! You know what? We're done talking! !" With that said, America hung up his phone.

England gaped at what he heard—frowning at being rudely hung up all of a sudden, but soon changed into guilt after he had replayed what America had said in his head. He pulled his phone away from his ear took look at the screen—looking at the '1 received call' from Alfred.

"Francis and I..? Going places together..? He wanted me to stay longer..?" Arthur mumbled to himself, "…And promises..? What does he mean that I broke them..?" He placed his phone on top his desk—staring intently at it as if Alfred would call again and give him the answer he needed.

England's eyes widen in realization, "Ah! That idiot… Why would he ever think of such a thing? He knows better than to eavesdrop on personal conversations…and then assuming ridiculous notions!" He sighed, resting his elbows on top the desk, hands rubbing his face in frustration.

How is it that every time he tries to not have troubles with Alfred—the problems just seem to find him? Everything probably just hates him—that's why there's always an issue going on between the two English speaking countries.

"Well… There's nothing for me to do. He won't talk to me… Stubborn brat. I don't want to worsen the situation so I'll let time take its course for now." England pushed at his desk to move backwards on his rolling office chair and got up, walking out the room. He had some work to finish with someone.

* * *

><p>Several hours passed after America had hung up on England, the lonely American stared intently at his phone—expecting another call from Arthur. Sure he had yelled at the Englishman and hung up suddenly, but he still expected Arthur to call back. When the Brit didn't, Alfred became even more infuriated with England.<p>

He began throwing his bed top pillows to the wall in front of him in anger—cursing underneath his breath with clenched teeth. "Dammit Arthur..! Why the hell do you hate me..? You said you won't break your promises! At least call back—can't you take a damn hint?"

America began wrapping himself in his bed covers again until his whole body was completely covered in blankets. A stir of emotions still flurried inside his body—he didn't know whether he wanted to cry or yell out in anger again. He did feel like doing both, but his mind couldn't process on either one for being too wrapped up in his thoughts.

He needed to do something. If Arthur wasn't going to do shit, then he would—like what a Hero _would _do. Alfred wanted to stop France from continuing to go to his and Arthur's field. Even if England didn't care about the wide mass of greenery and floral, America still did and he wanted it stay that way.

Alfred wanted to still have _that_ promise.

At once, the American conjured up a plan. He threw off the bed covers and ran out the room, phone at hand. The man with a plan speedily ran to his office, bursting through the door making business papers that had yet to be picked up from the floor and be completed, to fly out to the sides— making way for the determined superpower.

America hastily went through his desk drawers—in searching of something. He continued to rummage through seemingly unable to find what he was looking for due to the pass of time. Alfred shoved away broken crayons, pens that have ink but won't write, broken tipped pencils whenever you sharpen them, French fries, packets of ketchup… All kinds of junk were stashed in there that he had to maneuver through.

It almost seemed impossible to find whatever he was looking for in that crap desk.

"Aha! Found you, you little bastard..!" Alfred declared out in victory of finding his prize. He threw a fist in the air in triumph.

Though it did not look like a prize or something worth looking for, it was exactly what Alfred needed to carry out his plan.

Just as quickly as he came in, Alfred ran back out with his phone and found item back into the comfort of his bedroom. He closed the door behind him slowly—chuckling darkly in knowing of what he was going to do. It looked freaky and even more so since his room was dark to begin with—so laughing like that made it all the creepiest.

And now it all goes back to the winning question—what did he find?

Alfred opened his hand to reveal the item again to himself—just a piece of paper with numbers and symbols written on it. He quickly brought out his other hand to press in star sixty-seven then the numbers written down on the paper, followed by what would appear to be random symbols, but were actually a precise ordering pattern.

Putting the phone up to his ear, Alfred listened to the ringing as he waited for the one he was calling to answer.

Some more time passes and Alfred thought that England wouldn't answer until...

_-Click!- "Yes Francis what is it?"_ England answered; sounding very annoyed which struck Alfred as slightly strange—thinking that the two were close_—_but he didn't falter.

Alfred cleared his voice, "_Ah mon cher Angleterre..! _Arthur! I was meaning to talk to you about _tres tres_ important matters…!" The American said as cheerfully as he can—despite still being ticked off at the Englishman—and in the best French accent he can pull off, trying hard to sound almost exactly like the Frenchman.

America could hear England sigh on the other line, _"Right… What is it then?" _Arthur asked, irritation still not leaving his voice.

Apparently the elder bought it—Alfred had actually pulled off being France. Who would have known that mimicking France for shits and kicks would pay off? America cleared his throat again about to speak only to be interrupted.

"_What's wrong? Are you in under a cold? Sore throat?" _England asked sounding slightly concerned—making Alfred fume up in jealousy, but forced to restrain himself all for the sake of his plan.

"_Non..!_ No need to worry _mon ami! _Just a_ petite _tickle in my throat!" America replied just as cheerful even if he still was bothered.

England sighed again on the other line, _"Alright. So what is it that was tres tres important then? Come on now—spit it out!"_ The Englishman said, abandoning his concern and replacing it with annoyance clearly heard in his voice.

"_Oui!_ What I needed to tell you is that I am cancelling all plans with you…! And I especially do not want to go with you to that field that belongs to only you and Alfred—"

"_W-Wait… Wha—"_

"Ah _mon cheri! Desole!_ I have other things to attend to now..! _Au revoir!" -Click!- _America quickly hung up his cell. He smiled mischievously—being proud that his plan was a success.

America's plan was nothing big more as witty and sheer luck..! He had remembered a trick number code that Gilbert had given him a while back that can change your phone's caller ID to someone else's when calling—pretty neat trick and/ or prank. All you had to do is put star sixty-seven to hide your own ID, the number of the person you wanted to call, and a code that will process the person's caller ID from their phone number and can use the ID for yourself.

Alfred hadn't used it until now—he didn't feel the need to use it because no one was a greater and amazing hero as he was! Why would he want to fool people to think he was someone else?

Well—he found a reason.

By tricking the Englishman that he was Francis, Alfred was able to stop any arrangements Francis and Arthur would have! So no more British and French get togethers and _his and Arthur's_ field!

...But who knows how long this charade can last..?

He can't guarantee stopping the two from meeting the next time or the next time...He doesn't even know if the Englishman actually fell for it.

So was this plan ever a success..?

* * *

><p><strong>Meanwhile back at Arthur's house... Arthur was sitting in his office room...<strong>

**He had just gotten a peculiar call from Francis... and he was feeling curiouser and curiouser...**

"Wha-what..." Arthur stuttered out looking at his phone in his hand, "He knows damn well that _we _cannotcancel plans now! Especially this one! Why must he say such foolish things..?" He yelled out.

The emerald eyed nation turned his head to France who stood next to him, his forearm on the head of the chair Arthur was residing on and his freehand on his hip. The Englishman stared at the other with signs of distress and annoyance on his face.

Francis chuckled—he was amused at what took place, "Ah _mon cher Angleterre..! _Arthur!" the French mimicked, chuckling yet again, "It would seem that a certain country does not want us to meet with one another, _oui..?_ I wonder why..." France asked rubbing his chin in thought, smiling mischievously—clearly hinting to England to elaborate this funny ordeal.

"Care to explain _cheri..?" _France said teasingly seductive. He wrapped his arm that was on the chair, behind Arthur's neck—his other hand still on his hip, slightly swaying.

England groaned, shoving off the intruding arm off his shoulders. "I suppose he heard our conversation a couple of days ago—that, I am very certain of. Now he has concocted a ludicrous plan to prevent us from meeting." He said furrowing his eyebrows in.

France brought his arm back to his side and stood up straight—folding his arms. He laughed slightly, shaking his head, "Well that may be, but I have to admit that he did a_ tres_ good job impersonating _moi..!_ If I didn't know better, I would have thought that he was actually the gorgeous France!"

England scoffed, turning his head back to face the Frenchman, "So what do you think? What was his motive for doing this? We know that he heard us talking, but there's no reason to pull such an idiotic stunt!" Arthur stated irritatingly bringing his hands into the air for emphasis.

France's smiled slowly changed into a serious expression. He unfolded his arms, quickly taking hold of the chair and turning it so that Arthur's body would face him—France held onto the sides of the chair as he stared down the now confused and somewhat frightened Englishman.

England's eyes widened as soon as he felt his chair turn suddenly. He just stared back at the other with his mouth slightly agape.

"_Angleterre..._ Can you not see it..?" France asked softly, but sternly.

England's hands had gripped onto the arm rests on each side—his hold tightened. He swallowed before responding and changing his composure to annoyed, "What are you going on about frog?" He snapped, glaring at the latter country.

France sighed in disappointment, "You cannot... How unfortunate." He said sadly, "_l'petite _Alfred is _tres_ jealous of you and _moi_ spending time together—and apparently there's a field that only belongs to you and him...How interesting..." France said teasingly again—another hint.

Arthur slapped his own forehead with his hand, "Dammit... He thought _we_, French and British, frog and gentleman…you and me—were going to that field..?" He said to himself like he wasn't in company.

Francis frowned at the frog comment whilst the other was referring to himself as gentleman before he cocked an eyebrow up, tilting his head in confusion.

England took notice of this and sighed—beginning his explanation, "When Alfred was younger I would take him to a field near my house that I had made just for the two of us..." Arthur smiled fondly at the memory. His face looking lost in a day dream.

The Englishman chuckled, shaking his head, "We would go there almost every day..! We would roll in the grass, run around, pick the flowers, and at the end of the day—we would just lay down on the field and watch the sun go down telling us that it was time to go back home.."

Arthur's smiled soon died down. His eyes stared off into the distance, "One day—after the day itself had gone away from the field and we were about to do so also... Alfred and I were walking home, and he made me promise—" His eyes came back to reality and shifted to look back at France.

"That only he and I would go there—no one else... Just Alfred and I. That was the intention of the field anyways... I wouldn't dream of taking anyone else...I wouldn't dream of breaking that promise... I even gave him a special necklace to make sure he knows I won't." He sighed heavily, "He probably disposed of it long ago..."

Arthur stayed quiet and so did Francis—bringing the room into an awkward silence. France cleared his throat to lighten the mood, "So you were going to take me to the special field _mon ami..?"_ He teased, earning a punch to the face.

Not the reaction he was willing to take, but he did it just for the sake of mood killer—sad memories are not helpful with making one feel joyful. This memory wasn't sad at all actually, but it would trigger upsetting ones considering that afterwards Alfred left Arthur.

France backed off rubbing his nose, "_Merde!_ That wasn't _tres_ nice of you Arthur! You knew _tres _well that I was only kidding!" He pouted, still rubbing his poor nose.

England smirked, folding his arms, and crossing a leg over the other, "And you knew _very_ well that you had that coming..! Why the hell would I take anybody there besides Alfred? I assure you that I most especially would not take the likes of _you_ to a place that special!"

France snickered behind his rubbing hand, "_Oui,_ I know. You do not need to get your panties in a bunch Arthur." France laughed at his remark—ducking his head from a flying stapler that had been thrown to his direction.

Arthur scowled—his hand searching for another object to throw at the laughing French.

France took note at that and raised his hands in a peace-offering, "Ah Arthur! Before you clear your desk of things to throw at _moi—_I suggest you go straighten things out with Alfred. I can't imagine what kind of hurt he must have been for the past week... _Pas terrible..."_ He clicked his tongue in disappointment.

England scoffed at the idea—why should he care? It not as if it was his fault! If anything it was the lazy git's fault for eavesdropping in the first place! "Now why should I do that?" He snapped back.

"...I think you already know the answer Arthur."

"...Maybe I do. So what of it?"

"So you go and set things right between you two!"

"What if I don't want to? What if he's just playing another joke on me? I mean—I don't even know if he actually cares or not! Why should I, the one who puts him first before everything else, fly across the pond just to make amends with someone who acts like he doesn't even give a damn about two words I say?" Arthur shot at to France.

Francis stayed calm and collected whilst the other fumed. He went back over to the Englishman to stand close in front of him—leaning over the other country, making England to look up to see the others face.

"Is that a risk you are willing to take _mon cher?_ As you said before, you put him first before everything else. What if he is hurting? What if he really cares? Are you going to risk not knowing? Not comforting your_ l'petit _Alfred..? Apparently he does care since he went through the trouble of trying to fool you."

France backed off—now just staring at England with waiting eyes—waiting for an answer.

Arthur sighed—he knew from the beginning that he was going to go see Alfred to fix things. He had no clue what possessed him to say that he didn't want to—he supposed that he's just scared...Scared of being too close again and to be broken apart again.

...But that's no excuse. He will set things right between them! _I'm a bloody gentleman for crying out loud!_

England smirked at France whom raised an eyebrow.

"I'm staying here." The Englishman said plainly—turning his chair back to face his desk.

Francis frowned, stomping over to the front of the desk—slamming both his hands on top the surface in front of England who in return raised his own eyebrow. "_Sacre bleu!_ What did we just talk about? I cannot believe you're choosing to not fix things with Alfred!"

"Hey who said I wasn't going to fix things?" Arthur retorted calmly. He began fiddling with the sleeves of his uniform, smiling tenderly at his thoughts. "There's no need for me to go anywhere...Besides the field."

* * *

><p>Alfred had no idea why he was doing this. Why did he have to do this? He was still frickin pissed off at Arthur for taking Francis to the special field.<p>

Of course—what he didn't know was that Arthur didn't do anything of the sort. Sure the Englishman would go to different places with France and was indeed planning to go somewhere together, but not the place he thought and only as mutual friends—mostly to talk about business related matters and someone to vent to when having a stressful day. They were friends after all—respectful hatred and or otherwise. Their meetings would take place at each other's houses or somewhere calming like a classy diner.

All in all—Francis and Arthur get a long fairly well. They have their fights and tiffs, but who doesn't? Although that's just it—friends; nothing more, nothing less.

-There is a rumor though that Francis and Arthur get together to practice fighting. They would first make a script about what they would say and do then act it out. Every fight is different and/or a continuation of another fight that happened months ago apparently. Though this rumor should not be taken to full consideration. -

Alfred is just being stupid and not thinking per usual.

The American was on his private jet to fly across the large mass of bluey waters. He sat restlessly in his seat—moving around thinking he'd be more comfortable, but was just absentmindedly shifting around in his plane seat to more uncomfortable positions.

After he had settled, though not any more comfortable than when he first started, America leaned back in his seat and turned his head to look out the window—seeing white puffy clouds, light blue skies, and the bright golden sun shining though the white masses and peeking from the silver linings.

Alfred sighed—the view outside the window was nice. It made him feel calm though a sad kind of calm. He remembered when he and Arthur would lay on the field and look at the sky—just letting time pass by. Just the two of them.

But now he's looking at the beautiful blues—without Arthur. His Arthur… But Alfred doubted that the Englishman even agreed… After all—

Arthur had France—not him… An awesome hero who doesn't like work, loves junk food, and just wants to be with England.

Alfred sighed again—more heavily this time. He turned his head to the speaker above him once he heard the pilot speak,

Static noises are made,_ "Mr. Jones—we will be landing in a few minutes. Please buckle your seat belt if not already on. We are landing in London, England."_

The sullen American lowered his head, turning it to look outside again—seeing the sky, the clouds, and bright sun, and now the awe-inspiring capital city below with all its wonderment.

He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on to the head rest.

Nothing much happened after Alfred got off his plane—first he got off the jet, went through private security since he was part of the important people group, completely skipped meals—as he did for a week, but he still ate, just not much—and strolled absent mindedly through the heart of his England…Or wished he was his anyways.

He didn't have to think much about where he was going. Since he and Arthur had went back and forth from England's house and the field many many times in the past—he knew exactly where the Englishman's house was in London; same thing with their field from the house.

So Alfred just walked along sidewalk—passing by people and people passing by him without giving the American a second thought; likewise with him. With the rush of the day going on and the rustle of traffic—everything seemed restless and energetic.

The city was alive and going—the whole country's economy was excellent. _Arthur's doing well. That's good… _Alfred thought.

_It's good that he's finally moved on from that day…that war…_

_It's good that he finally decided to let me go…_

_Francis better take good care of him—make him happy; wipe away the tears I caused._

_It's okay this way right?_

_I mean… I shouldn't be mad at England… I can't blame him for doing these things…After everything I did… So it's better this way. As long as he's happy—it's okay…_

_Right..? I should be happy—_

_Right..?_

Alfred knew he should be, but knew even better that he's not and will never be.

_I wanted to be the one to wipe away those tears…to make him happy… I caused him to feel so sad—I want to, for once, make him happy…_

…_But he has France now…and that one trick call won't be enough to stop the two from meeting…let alone going to our field…._

_I bet as soon as I hung up, Arthur called Francis and the two agreed that it was a misunderstanding and that some asshole was just pulling a little 'ol joke on him._

… _I guess it's not going to be our field for long…_

While still deep in his thoughts—Alfred unknowingly made way towards England's mansion from the rustle and bustle of the city. He looked up—stopping in his tracks to look at Arthur's home. The appearance looked so welcoming… so secure—_just like Arthur…_

He always welcomed Alfred with open loving arms into his home—he always felt so safe…In his arms. Slight wind picked up—breathing through America's hair making it flow easily to the side where the breeze blew as Alfred continued to stare longingly at the manor and all its splendor.

Alfred quickly turned his head to the side—looking away from the building. He immediately shuffled along the path that lead to the field—his walking being slightly fast-paced to gain distance between him and the house.

Not too long after, and to Alfred's satisfaction, he had made it to the entrance of the special field. The entrance wasn't big or fancy in anyway. It was small and mostly hidden behind thick greenery of all the sorts. No one would see it or even know there was even a field considering the mass of grass was enclosed and surrounded by tall bushes and even more trees.

Arthur had the field created just for him and Alfred—no one else. That was the promise—for Arthur to not take anyone else, but Alfred. It was theirs and theirs alone.

As he looked at the little opening between trees that was the entrance, Alfred felt tears threatening his eyes. He took in a deep breath and straightened his back—his expression changing into a stern, but wary face before marching somewhat bravely into the field.

There was no need to be brave or prepared for going inside the special expanse of green, but the American didn't know what he might find. There might not be any field at all anymore and all that's there are piles of dirt and machines indicating that there's construction work in the making.

He might find Arthur and France there together, laying on the grass and looking at the sky or doing anything else he and Arthur used to do when he was a kid!

Alfred didn't know what to expect—he hasn't been here in like, FOREVER..! So he had to be prepared for the worst!

America was carefully making his way through the tree tunnel with his eyes closed—afraid of what he might find at the end of this road. Luckily the path had nothing in his way whilst he walked—if there was he'd be bumping into things a lot.

At the end of his mini journey through the tiny forest to get to the entrance of the field, he was greeted by the bright light of the mid day's shine of the setting sun as soon as he came out from the trees.

The shine shown through his eyelids, letting him know that he had made it out, but he was still too afraid to open them. He began to tremble in sadness and fear.

"W-What if there's nothing here..? Or worse! What if he's here...with France..?" Alfred said to himself—his body not ceasing from trembles.

With much deliberation—he opened them, his eyes blinking several times to adjust to the light before focusing and letting him see what was before them.

To Alfred's surprise as he stood in awestruck, mouth slightly agape –he saw that the land before him had remained the same since he last went here.

The field seemed greener than before, but that was just about it that was different. There was still a mixed pattering of flowers scattering the grass and there wasn't any construction or a hint of another person besides himself being there.

_Nothing's changed. Why didn't anything change..? It's been centuries since I last been here. Arthur would have gotten rid of this place already._

Alfred walked in onto the field—feeling how the breeze hit his skin. It felt nostalgic. He found that one spot where he and Arthur would always lay down. There wasn't anything particular about that spot that made them want to sit or lay there every time they would visit, they just like that spot.

It was like _not_ having assigned seats in school or on a bus—if you don't have assigned seats, you always sit in the same spot; if you do have seats assigned, you always want to sit anywhere else, but that spot you were assigned to..!

Alfred smiled fondly, clutching onto the pendant jewel on his necklace and letting the few tears that still threatened to escape fall down from his sapphire eyes.

He went over to the spot and lied down on his side—still grasping onto the jewel afraid it might go away also like Arthur.

The breeze soon turned into wind—turning the warm breeze playing with the flowers into a chilling wind that ghosted the grass. America shivered in the cold, but he wanted it. He wanted to feel something; he wanted to feel the cold to not feel at all.

He smiled lovingly at the touch of the pendant, continuing to cry lightly—so many fond memories. Alfred closed his eyes and let time pull him into dreamland—still holding on to the heart jewel.

The sky was colored in midday colors—hours still before night hits him.

So he has time to sleep and be with his Arthur in his dreams.

* * *

><p>Alfred woke up so suddenly on his back and could see that night was soon dawning on him. He realized that he was no longer cold—he was rather…warm. He felt something over him.<p>

He blinked some more a couple of times for his eyes to adjust to the slight darkening surroundings. The confused American blinked before propping himself onto his elbows to see what exactly was on him.

A blanket—someone put a blanket over him. Why was there a blanket on him in the first place..? No one knows where this place was besides him and—

"Oh you're awake. Did you have a bad dream? Are you still cold?" Alfred heard someone say. He shifted his head to where he heard the other.

"A-Arthur..?" He stuttered. "W-What are you doing here..?"

Arthur chuckled shaking his head—he was sitting down, leaning back on a tree close by Alfred, "Well I do live near here. I would have to ask _you _that very same question."

Alfred pursed his lips—he averted his eyes away from England, "N-No reason… Just wanted to come here, that's all.."

England cocked an eyebrow upwards then frowned, "Oh… Alright… Well you should come back to the house with me. It's cold here and getting dar—"

"Why don't you take _Francis_ with you back to your house..?" Alfred suddenly snapped back—head still turned away from the other. "Bet you would _j'adore his_ company instead of mine." He growled silently—to not let the other see that he was angry.

_Stop it..! Stop being mad! He's HAPPY now! You should be glad that he finally is! Especially since you caused all his fucking UNhappiness..! _America thought—scolding himself harshly to convince himself.

Arthur was taken aback, but remained calm. He wasn't mad at the other, more as upset. He frowned sadly at the latter who continued looking away. "Alfred… What's gotten over you so suddenly..?"

The upset America begins to mumble incoherent words of irritation. "Nothing..! Nothings _gotten over me.._! I'm perfectly tip top, peachy keen fine...!" He said, very unconvincing. _Relax America… Stay calm…_

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in; he stood up and went over to the other. He fell back down on to his knees—grabbing the other by his shirt and forcing Alfred to look at him straight in the eye. "No! It's _not _nothing! I haven't had any contact with you for days until you finally answered my call—only to have you yell at me about Francis. Not to mention that absurd prank call you did trying to pass yourself off as that French..!"

He scowled again—wanting the other to drop the conversation and just leave him alone, "Yeah—it is! And so what if I did that..? Nothing's changed..! Go ahead! Take Francis back to your house! Don't mind me! I'll make sure to get out of here before you take him _here_ too again!" but at the same time—wanting the other to stay and comfort him in his sorrow, but couldn't control his actions that were overpowered by his emotions.

Now the hurt on Arthur's face became very visible to America, "Alfred... I never took Francis…or _anyone _here..!"

Alfred frowned at the other, still not believing anything. He opened his mouth to talk back, but Arthur anticipated this and began to speak before he got a chance to do so.

Arthur tugged on Alfred's shirt to make the other pay attention and really _listen_ to his words, "Alfred..! Believe me when I say, that I _haven't _taken _anyone_ here besides _you_..! _How _can you assume that I would be bringing other people here even after that promise I made to you? _HOW _can you believe that I would be willingly to break that promise..?"

America scoffed, turning his head away, "I heard what you were talking about to Francis! Don't pretend that you don't know!" Hot tears welled up in his eyes—falling down only a moment after. He quickly turned his head back glaring at England with tear streaming eyes that were coated with hurt and betrayal. "You promised that only _we_ would come here..! You promised that you'll only take _me_..! You promised that you'll always be _my_ Arthur…and you're off with France doing _whothefuckknowsfuckingwhat_..!"

Alfred continued to cry along with staring angrily at Arthur—the salty water running down stung his cheeks. He flushed in irritation.

England frowned angrily, tightening his grip on the clothing; tugging at it again, "What Francis and I were talking about was Central Park near my house..! It was our rendezvous point because that was the only place besides my house he knew how to get to without a blasted GPS..! We had to meet for a European Nations meeting that day in London..! Besides! We only meet at other times for buisness or idle chitchat! Who else can I talk to about you leaving me for independence? Who else can I cry to about you leaving me all alone for centuries?"

The Brit gaped sadly at the other—gradually loosening his grip on the American's clothing until he had let go of the article entirely. He looked hurt—really hurt, that Alfred would ever believe such stupid things.

The angry American's mind snapped into realization of the elder's hurt. His being calmed down—knowing that it wasn't about him…It was about Arthur and his happiness. _I wanted to be the one to make yoou happy..._ He bowed his head and wiped his face of tears with his sleeve—hating himself for getting mad at England and making his former caretaker feel more and more dejected.

"I-I didn't know..."

"You're damn right you didn't."

"I should've asked first..."

"Damn straight..."

"I'm sorry... I-I shouldn't have said anything…"

England still looked hurt, "...It's fine America." He looked at the other to show him his hurt. "...But I promised—"

The English country lifted his arm, "and a promise is a promise—meant to be kept…" and placed his hand on the middle of Alfred's chest to symbolize the necklace promise, unknowingly placing it where the pendant of the necklace was. Alfred looked up at the English country with a soft embarrassed smile.

Arthur was taken by surprise at the feel of the jewel—his eyes widening slightly, more of shock than curiosity. He looked at the other, stunned. The emerald eyed nation used both hands to trace around behind America's neck—feeling the chain of the golden necklace—then trailing them back around to the front—slowly pulling out the heart pendant from the inside of Alfred's shirt.

The Englishman's eyes widen even more at the sight of the necklace, the jewel he had given America so many years ago. He thought that Alfred no longer had it—having the jewelry be lost and or thrown out long ago. He believed that especially after America had left him for independence.

"Y-You…You still kept this..?" Arthur shifted his eyes back at the other, astonished. "You kept it all these years..?"

America took a hand and placed it over the elders that held the jewel—holding the other tightly. His eyes had begun weeping again, but each drop came down slowly in sparkling clumps.

America nodded slowly, "This meant a lot to me… I loved spending time with you… I wish we could still do that now—" He said softly, tightening his grasps on England's hand and around the Englishman himself, "I really thought you broke your promise... I-I really thought—" He leaned over towards England to rest his for head on the elder's shoulder. He began trembling and his tears fell down harder, his feelings being saddened again at his thought,

"That you weren't my Arthur anymore..." His voice hitched and he wrapped his arms back around the Englishman's body—holding on tightly as if his life depended on it. "..I wouldn't blame you though... It's probably true..." He mumbled, holding on tighter, "I made you to be so miserable for years... You deserve someone that makes you happy... I figured Francis was that person..."

He lifted his head again to look at the other with a sad smiling face, soon turning his head slightly to the side to hide his hurt from the other, but still smiling sadly. "But it's okay if he is as long as you're happy... You don't have to make up stuff to make me feel better... As long as you're happ—"

"Shut up Alfred."

Alfred turned his head back to face Arthur to assure him, "I'm serious Arthur..! It's okay if Francis—"

"Shut the fuck up! I mean it!"

Arthur's emerald eyes were a flame with anger and hurt as he glared at the other, "Don't just assume things on your own without my saying! Because you have _no _idea what I think!" His expression softened to only hurt as he gazed fondly at the other—watching the runaway tear drops that came down America's cheeks before gazing back into bluey eyes.

England lifted a hand to Alfred's right cheek—wiping away loose tears; placing his hand on the side of America's face. Arthur did the same with the other cheek—using his free hand to brush away fallen tears and again placing it on the side of Alfred's face.

England gently rubbed the crying nation's cheeks with his thumbs—looking deep into the other's sparkling sapphire eyes that gleamed...Trying hard to push his way through the barrier that blocked the cheer in America. He brought his head up to Alfred's— closing his eyes, and tenderly placing a soft kiss on the other's lips.

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise—then shutting them tightly, crying even harder. He nervously wrapped his arms around Arthur's body—bringing the other into a wanting hug; he hesitantly began to kiss back; not knowing if this was a dream or not, but he knew he didn't want it to end. He continued to cry silently.

The American soon felt drips of tears that were not his own on his face—Arthur was crying too. Arthur slowly leaned back just an inch to break their lips apart, fluttering his eyes open, but to still be so close to the others face. Alfred too, flickered his eyes open—having the two nations fixate their eyes with looks of longing for one another and sadness of different notions thought, so clear in their eyes.

The Englishman kept his hands where it was on Alfred and he closed his eyes again, leaning ever so closely to have their lips be so near to almost touch, but just enough to be apart, leaving them there to linger over each other as they listened to their uneven breathing of small hitches—feeling each other's warm breath. "I would never break my promises to you…" England softly said, slowly rubbing the other's cheeks with his thumbs, "Never you…"

Arthur leaned in ever closer, but still not enough to have their lips touch; just for their faces to be ever so near—for the other to feel what Arthur wanted him to feel. He wanted Alfred to know that he would never break his promises to him. He wanted that damn American to know how much he loved him before and now; now that it blossomed more beautifully—his love for him.

"This is our field—and ours alone…I never took anyone here besides you. I promised I wouldn't take anyone else… Only you." Arthur choked back a sob to prevent more tears from falling, "Please believe me Alfred when I say…" He opened his eyes, looking sincerely at sapphire jewels that were his Alfred, but his emerald eyes looked so sad. "I would never…_ever_…break a promise to you…You mean _everything _to me…"

England lifted his head up slightly towards America to lightly brush their noses together, then pressing their foreheads together—closing his eyes. "_You_ are my world Alfred… _You_ make me happy…"

Arthur paused for a moment, listening for the other's response or for any reaction—hoping that Alfred finally realizes how he really feels. How much he truly loves him. "I love you Alfred…" He whispered in a hushed voice with the wind echoing through the expanse of land before them—listening to the gentle song the breeze was singing. "If you don't believe anything else just please believe that one… That I love you…"

England lowered his hands from the other's face along with lowering his head to look down at his lap—looking away from America, being afraid of any reaction he may have triggered.

A few seconds pass in complete silence between the two countries besides the sounds of the wind and rustles of trees—Arthur's tension died down, but only to gain a feeling of discouragement of not hearing any reply.

Arthur began shifting his legs and stood up, turning his head to the side—away from Alfred with the Englishman's face filled with hurt stain. "It's getting late..." He stated as brightly as he can—trying to not let his emotions get the best of him even forming a small smile, though failing miserably.

England started to walk past America who continued to sit on the grass and had his head bowed not looking at the retreating other, but was stopped instantly by Alfred grabbing the Englishman's wrist, him still not looking at the emerald eyed nation.

Eyes widen in surprise and Arthur looked back at the other who was holding on to him, but still looked down.

"Alfre—" The younger country immediately pulled the elder back down to him—strong arms feeling them wrap around his body and pulling him to the American body for a longing embrace. Alfred dug his face in the crook of Arthur's neck—placing a hand at the back of the Englishman's head; feeling his soft hair through his fingers.

"Don't go... Please don't leave so soon again..." America held on tighter to the other.

"...Can't we stay here just a bit longer..?"

Arthur felt hot tears forming at the corners of his eyes. They were welling up in his eyes—casing the surface, causing his vision to sting and become blurry to keep open. He shut them hard, letting the trapped tears escape down his cheeks—wrapping his arms tightly around the other.

England chuckled softly, his smile slowly coming back, "Sure.. We can stay longer."

The two inched away to look at each other with crying smiling faces that gleamed. Alfred lied back down on the grass with Arthur doing the same—lying right next to his Alfred as close as he can. They both lied on their sides to face each other—smiling at each other.

Arthur pulled the blanket over them, himself lying slightly higher than the other. America dug his face into England's chest—having the Englishman use a hand to tenderly rub the back of Alfred's head and digging his nose into the younger country's hair.

"I love you Arthur... Promise me again..?"

England smiled warmly, "Certainly. What would that be?"

The wind's symphony surrounded the two nations in the darkening field. Flower petals danced around whilst the blowing air serenaded them in song—playing their hearts words perfectly in tune.

"That you'll always be my Arthur."

Arthur chuckled, continuing to gently soothe the other with loving touches. He scooted down to be face to face with Alfred. He smiled happily, "Of course… I never want to be anyone else's."

Alfred smiled back, leaning in to kiss the other country; locking their hands together and intertwining their fingers—he couldn't be happier...Arthur was happy...

Arthur is happy being...with him.

Arthur is happy being with Alfred.

America gradually pulled away, placing one more quick, but loving kiss on England's lips before cuddling up to the other—their hands still locked together.

Night soon cloaked the United Kingdom in a dark shroud, with the ebony sky spotted with thousands of little twinkling stars. The two countries were close to drifting off to sleep—excited to see each other in their dreams and when they wake up the next morning.

"I love you Arthur.." Alfred mumbled sleepily.

Arthur moved in closer to fill whatever space they had between them, "I love you too..." He whispered back.

"You promise that you'll always be my Arthur right..?"

Alfred took a hand and grasped his pendant on his necklace—still keeping his other hand locked with the Englishman's. England chuckled softly,

"I promise."

* * *

><p>Fin.<p>

Now how was it? Good? Bad? Awesome? Horrible?

Please review! Please please please! REVIEW!


End file.
